The Protector
by WordBird
Summary: She is no one. No one knows who she is, what she is, or where she's from. She has many names. But who is she really? And why does it matter? ofclego
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

The dark figure followed the sounds of battle until coming upon one of Mirkwood's old and forgotten paths. Lying in the center of the road, surrounded by nine hideous orcs, was an elf. He looked to be no older than 2300. Old enough to know better than to go into the orc infested forest alone, but young enough to do it anyway. He was glaring at the orcs with a defiant expression, even though his right thigh was bleeding profusely and he had a deep cut above his left eyebrow that kept dripping into his eye, blinding him till he wiped the blood away.

Climbing silently into the tree shielding her from the road, the hooded form positioned herself above the injured elf, and, making sure she was hidden by foliage, she let out a long low whistle. The orcs stopped their jeering and looked around for the source of the sound. The elf however, possessing superior hearing was able to pinpoint the direction of the sound and looked up. Though he could not see anything besides branches and leaves he knew who was there.

It was the Protector. The mysterious guardian of the forest. Not much was known about the Protector except that _he_ had appeared about three hundred years prior and since then not a single elf had died of an orc or spider attack. There were many theories about the secretive sentinel. Some people believed that the Protector lived among them as a normal citizen while others thought that he had a secret hideaway in the forest and that that was how he always knew everything that went on there.

Needless to say the Protector was a favorite subject among the gossipers of Mirkwood. But no matter how much they discussed the topic they never even came close to the truth. For all had automatically assumed that the Protector was a man, but they were wrong. The Protector was in fact a young woman and her name was Arien.

Peeking through the cover of leaves Arien saw the orcs still looking warily around. She drew her sword, ready to jump into the middle of the group as soon as she heard her mare approaching. She waited a few seconds, and then… yes there it was. The sound of iron shod hooves hitting impacted soil. With what could only be classified as an evil grin she pulled her green hood farther down to cover her masked face and, yelling a battle cry, jumped from her hiding spot.

One orc hit the ground before she did, and the rest of them were so stunned by her entrance that she was able to cut down two more before they charged her. She was so used to this that her mind entered what she liked to call _command mode_. All right, three down, six to go. Block. Block. Stab. Swerve. Duck. Jump. Slice. Cut. Punch. Block. She did this until there was just one left. Turning to him she feinted a slice at his side and when he went to counter she jumped and swung her right leg up and around until it connected solidly with the side of his head. Taking the opportunity of his dazed state she quickly and cleanly beheaded him.

Letting out an annoyed sort of snort she turned to the injured elf behind her and for the first time took in his appearance. He had the usual Mirkwood blonde hair, held back by four side braids that joined in the back to form a single, thicker braid. His green eyes almost matched his tunic as they had the merest hint of brown in them. Along with the normal tunic, leggings and boots, he wore a quiver, an empty scabbard and an empty knife sheath strapped to his good thigh.

Arien wiped her bloody sword on some hanging foliage and sheathed it. Walking over to her still silent blonde she said, "Come to borrow sugar have you?" in her low, deep, male voice she always used as the Protector. The young man didn't answer; he just stared at her, an awed expression on his face.

"We best get you home before you lose anymore blood. Lúnor come help." At her call her chocolate brown mare walked out of the cover of the trees and rubbed her head in the small of Arien's back. Arien walked closer to the elf.

"What's your name?" He just looked at her for a second then said,

" Eilde"

"Do you think that you will be able ride?"

"Yes." He said immediately, not wanting to seem weak.

"Alright then," Arien walked up to him, bent down, wrapped his left arm around her neck and wrapped her right arm around his waist, "On three, one…two…three!" With one strangled cry of pain and a few well-timed encouragements, they were mounted. Eilde was loosing blood at a frightening rate, despite the crude bandage Arien had made from a piece of her cloak.

Arien leaned past Eilde who was seated in front for support, and gently took hold of a hunk of mane. "Noro lim Lúnor." Lúnor was a blood mare bred for elven life, endurance, and speed. They had been on the old King's road for barely ten minuets when they passed the first sentries.

Unbeknownst to her charge Arien was very nervous about going into the palace. It was not the fact that they were caves that bothered her, she had been in countless caves, she was worried that someone might discover that she was a female.

If more than four jump me at the same time they could easily overpower me… I'll just drop him off at the doors. No, I can't do that, that would be wrong, not to mention cowardly… but they can't find out who I am. Arien was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice three riders pull up behind her. For a panicked second she thought they were trying to ambush her, until one of them yelled up to her that he would ride ahead and inform the Healing House to prepare for a patient and she realized that they were giving her an escort. She sighed in relief.

Who knew that living in the forest with only spiders and orcs for neighbors could make an elf so paranoid. She thought rather sarcastically. Focusing again on where she was going -just in case she needed to get out in a hurry- she looked forward and saw what a moment ago had appeared to be a solid cliff wall had turned out to be a massive stone gateway. Turning her head to the side and up she saw a few dozen flets sprinkled amongst the treetops. So this must be The Village.

While the majority of people preferred to live in safety behind the stone walls of the king's vast in-mountain citadel others could not stand living in such confines. Arien also knew that the barracks were situated in The Village so that in case of an attack the defense force would be closer at hand.

Riding past the last of the flets brought Arien and the small escort to a splitting of paths. The main road continued on to the large stone doors, while a small pathway, just wide enough for two horses to walk abreast, turned right and ran parallel to the mountain wall. Arien glanced back looking for direction from one of her _helper_s. The man on her right motioned her to turn, so she did. Lúnor burst onto the path her sides heaving.

After two minuets of ducking low hanging branches they saw another door. This one was wooden and was much smaller, being the size of a normal barn door rather than the size of an Oliphant's backside. As they swung into view the door opened, Arien took this as an invitation, as it seemed did Lúnor who was already thinking about fresh oats and cool water. Taking a deep breath and swallowing her fear of discovery Arien rode straight through the open door followed closely by her escorts.

Once inside Arien looked around and found herself in a large stable, horses of every color being walked, fed, watered, and groomed. Well they had been anyway. All activity had stopped the moment her company had ridden in. Arien dismounted supporting Eilde until she hit the ground. Trying to ignore the tantalizing smell of hay, oats, and horseflesh, she reached up and forced her aching arms to pull the bleeding elf from the saddle.

Turning around she came mask to face with the two remaining members of her escort. The older looking one strode over and grasped the pommel of her saddle. " I will see to your horse…Pro-my lord." Arien saw him lead the mare away as she followed her own guide up a flight of stone steps and out of the livery, wryly amused at the man's uncertainty about what to call her.

Coming back to the seriousness of the moment, and her screaming muscles, she shifted Eilde in her arms thanking Eru once again that he made elves light and asked, "How much further?"

Her guide looked back as they turned into a long, well lit corridor, "The Healing House is at the end of this hall, they should have a room ready… Where did you find him?" he asked looking concernedly down at the elf in her arms.

"On one of the back paths." The young man cursed, his brilliant blue eyes flashing angrily. After a moment he seemed to pull himself back into the present.

"Amin hiraetha. I have not introduced myself. I am Legolas, son of King Thranduil, and I thank you for saving my best friend." He said, before pushing open a door that read, _Healing House 4_.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter two. Thanks to all four reviewers for the support. Also I fixed the anonymous review block, so now hopefully anybody should be able to review. Sorry about that by the way. I just created my account and am still learning how to use it.

Usual disclaimer: Everything's mine, but what's his.

Note: This story starts before the movies, but will go through them and continue after with a sequel…I think. Anyway, have a happy read.

Chapter 2.

The healing house was perhaps an example of the size of the fortress she was now in, in short it was massive. The moment they stepped inside a healer came hurrying up to them, her tan novices' dress billowing behind her. Pulling a deep curtsy, she said, " Your Highness, Protector, we have a room waiting. This way."

They followed the woman past the main desk, and past two hallways of rooms, every door sporting a number. When they got to the last hall they turned right and skimmed the wall until they reached the room marked '73' where another healer, a male named Urril, was waiting. The novice, who had introduced herself as Linnea, pushed open the door and instructed Arien to set Eilde on the bed.

Urril watched with the Prince as the Protector walked into the moderately large room and carefully, as to not bump his injuries, laid his charge down. So this is the Protector, he thought, He is smaller than I would have expected. Mentally shaking himself he stepped forward his nut brown robes that marked him a master healer rustling as he walked. Stepping up to the bed the healer started his examination.

Arien, seeing that the two healers had it quite under control, slipped out of the room followed closely by Legolas. Making her way back to a small waiting room by the entrance she nearly fell into a settee. Glancing over at the prince, who had taken a seat as well, she allowed herself to take a good look at him. Something she had been wanting to do since they left the stable, because even a person with her limited knowledge of men could tell that Prince Legolas was an extremely handsome young man. Dressed in the uniform of a Mirkwood border sentry, leggings and a green tunic with blue decorative stitching, his warrior's physique was very clear. Judging from his slim yet sturdy build Arien thought that this fine-looking elf would have the grace and agility to rival that of a mountain cats.

Legolas too was taking a moment to assess his companion. The Protector wore normal leggings but instead of a one-piece tunic had on a skirt like bottom piece the same length as any tunic but with two layers and strategically placed slits, no doubt for easier movement. A long sleeved shirt hung a little past his waist, with a thin, half-length, sleeveless, hooded vest over it. It was this hood that kept the Protectors identity secret, though Legolas suspected that there was something else under that large hood that hid the face that everyone so longed to see.

All of his clothing had been made for long travel, maneuverability and camouflage, everything being a dark brown and green. All was well worn, as if it's owner had walked every path and climbed every tree of the wood. This seemed to cast out the idea that the Protector was a normal citizen with a secret life. Someone that lived in the city would not need to allow their equipment to fall into such disrepair. Whereas someone that did not have access to general goods and supplies on a daily basis, would have to do the best they could until they had a chance to purchase fresh attire and the like.

Legolas looked for little things that could give him a clue to the mysterious warriors' identity but could see nothing. In fact not an inch of skin showed. The man's hair, assuming he had some, was held under the large hood and could not be seen. His hands were completely enveloped in dark colored gloves, with suspicious looking stains. Tearing his gaze away from the bloodstains, Legolas looked down to examine the guardian's weapons and noticed something that struck him as odd.

The elf's sword was hanging from his **right **side. A long dagger hung from his left side and a knife sheath was strapped above the man's left boot. Is he left-handed? Legolas wondered, so wrapped up in his suspicions that he did not notice that his analysis had not gone undetected.

Arien sat in her chair trying not to fidget, wondering what had been so damn interesting about her appearance. She had noticed that his gaze had lingered on her blood stained gloves. Well in case he doesn't know, it is very hard to get orc blood out of leatherShe considered telling him it was rude to stare (purposely ignoring the fact that she had done so only a moment ago) but thought it too a feminine thing to say. After another few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Arien decided she could stand it no more.

"Should you not fetch the young man's parents, and inform them of their son's injury or, if he was thought missing, his retrieval?" As if on cue Lord Arlind burst through the healing house door.

"Where is he? Is he alright?" Arien's heart nearly burst from her skin. She leaped out of her chair, her hand on the hilt of her sword, still not entirely comfortable with being enclosed in a place full of…people. Fortunately her abrupt relocation went by unnoted thanks to the unexpected appearance of the King.

Legolas who had immediately begun to calm down the panicky father sighed in relief when he saw his own sire enter. "Ada."

"Legolas what happened? We were informed that Eilde had been hurt." Lord Arlind released a groan of frustration and started to pace, his green and gold robes rustling with each step. The King watched this uncharacteristic display of nerves apprehensively. Lord Arlind, King Thranduil's most loyal adviser and most trusted friend was not a man prone to panic preferring instead to stand back and analyze the situation calmly. Which is why his sudden lack of composure concerned his long time friend. "There now Arlind calm down," Thranduil said walking over to his companion and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, "This is not like you. Eilde is strong. He will be fine."

King Thranduil turned to address his son once again his handsome face furrowed in concern, "So what did hap… Legolas who is this?" he asked upon seeing the dark figure standing behind his son. Legolas turned to look at the almost rigid form of the Protector that stood virtually unseen in his shadow.

"Oh, I am sorry father," he said, standing aside to present his friend's rescuer, "King Thranduil, Lord Arlind may I introduce to you The Protector. Protector this is Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, and Lord Arlind of Galethond Hall, King's Advisor and the father of Eilde."

Arien who had stood as still as possible since the arrival of the king, as if some way that would prevent anyone from noticing her, forced herself to bow trying to stamp down a panic she felt creeping up. Will he try to order me to unmask? She wondered feverishly.

The king looked at the renowned sentinel, a glint of curiosity hidden in the depths of his aged eyes. Legolas opened his mouth to explain the guardian's presence but was stopped by the unusual actions of his father. Stepping forward Thranduil placed a closed fist over his bronze silk covered heart and bowed. Something not oft seen being done by the king of the wood. Straightening he said, " My people and I owe you much. There is not an elf in this wood that does not bless your name. If there is anything I can do to show our gratitude let it be known. Anything that you desire that I may rightly give is yours."

The King continued to stare into her masked face making her suppress a shiver. He was expecting an answer. Arien's tongue spoke before her brain, "There is but one thing I desire at the moment my King."

Thranduil smiled, "Name it."

"Permission to sit down."

He blinked for a moment as if wondering if she truly meant it, then seeing that it was no joke broke out in laughter. "Granted."

Arien collapsed back into her chair with relief. The king seemed a pleasant down-to-Arda sort of elf, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to learn her secrets. She decided that for the moment she would just be grateful that she made it through the introductions unharmed. As it would turn out, she made that judgment just a little too early.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Ten minutes later all but one member of the strange group had settled. Lord Arlind had yet to stop pacing. Back and forth across the small anteroom he went. Far from being unnerved by his movements Arien found his even strides comforting. Allowing herself to watch his track she relaxed enough to finally release the hilt of her sword and lean fully into the cushions behind her.

The King and his son were sitting across from her discussing this or that matter of court. They had given up trying to engage her in conversation after several attempts awarded with nothing but single-syllable answers. So Arien was left to her own devises. She had considered excusing herself and simply taking her leave, but found to her great surprise that she did not wish to leave. Sitting there surrounded by elves she realized how much she truly missed being with her own kin. She instead took out her polish stone and fell into the relaxing habit of cleaning her weapons.

Arien didn't know how long they had been waiting for the healer to appear, but she knew it had been some hours. Arlind had finally settled, his legs unable to keep the pace for too long, but had been silent despite the king's attempts to draw him into conversation. Runners had come through the doors continuously bearing notes for the king and unnerving Arien with the intense looks set upon her. The last person that had entered the healing house had been a young maiden.

Pushing in front of her a tray of food she had blushed crimson as she pulled it to a stop in between Arien and the prince. Prince Legolas hadn't seemed to have noticed the girl's color. But Arien had found it positively alarming and had just managed to keep from asking after the girl's health. She had never seen someone blush so violently.

Arien was just reconsidering the thought of leaving when the sound of a door opening and closing in the distance signaled the return of Urril. Coming to a halt in the front of the group he first bowed to one side of the room then the other. Realizing the important audience he had the ellon did not waste time with the usual reassurances.

"I apologize for the wait." He said. "We did a thorough examination and found a small fracture on his femur. Repairing bones takes much longer than repairing tissue. He lost a lot of blood, but with the help of athelas-root tea and plenty of bed rest he will soon be in as good condition as he was before." The strange mood that had taken over the adviser since the news of his son's exploits immediately dissipated in a breath of relief. Sliding from his seat he walked over and grasped the healers forearm in deep felt thanks before turning to the dark figure sitting behind him.

Arien cringed as the lord turned to her and knelt on one knee. Looking up he gazed intently into the dark cavern of her hood giving her the opportunity to notice that Eilde had his father's eyes before she was distracted by the man's words. "My Lord, I fear that I will be indebted to you for all of my days. You have given me something that I will never be able to repay. If there is ever anything that you need, please do not hesitate to call upon me. I am your servant." He bowed, which seemed a difficult thing to do in his position, before standing and following the Master healer down the corridor his chestnut hair swinging in his haste.

No matter her exclusion from elven society Arien could still recognize a vow of servitude. And it seemed Lord Arlind had no intention of letting her refuse it. Turning to face the two men across from her she saw that they too seemed slightly taken aback at the adviser's edict. A vow of servitude was a rare custom usually reserved for a king and his captain. Fortunately the king did not seem affronted just slightly bemused. As so did his son.

Legolas was looking at Arien in a very scrutinizing way making her insides squirm uncomfortably. Thankfully the king seemed to quickly put aside the matter in order to address his guest. "My Lord Protector, would you honor my family with your company and join us for our eve meal?" Before she could answer with an excuse that she had yet to think of Legolas interrupted.

"It would indeed be a great honor My Lord." Arien made the grave mistake of looking the young man in the eyes. She suddenly forgot why she was going to decline the offer as her head filled with impossibly silly, and romantic notions. She couldn't help herself.

Tearing her eyes away from the deep drowning pools of blue to a pair as green as a new leaf and brimming with knowledge she said, "Thank you much for the invitation my King. I accept." Thranduil stood, beaming.

"Wonderful," he said. "The queen will be most pleased. Come, we will leave Eilde to his father's care." With that he strode from the room, Legolas on his heels. Walking behind them Arien took note that were it not for the king's slightly heavier build and the different choice of attire she would have been unable to tell the difference between the two from the back. Both wore their golden hair to the bottom of their shoulder blades with one braid lying down the middle, and they were equal in height, nearly four inches taller than her meager size.

With the two ellons leading the way they quickly got further and further into the mountainside leaving behind the rough hewn, empty tunnels of the lower levels for the more densely populated, polished, and well lit, corridors of the upper levels. How they had bypassed the market, and middle levels Arien couldn't figure out. She had franticly tried to memorize the route as they went but had almost immediately found herself lost and nearly convinced that they were going in circles.

Finally they turned into an extra wide corridor lit by large lamps hanging from the ceiling leaving small pockets of shadow along the wall every few feet. She stopped. Painted elegantly on the entrance floor were the words 'Lordling's Hall'. Legolas, who had dropped back sometime ago to walk with her explained, a small smile on his handsome face. "My mother painted that. She said that it's much easier for each hall to go by it's own name, and that we children were the ones that truly had the run of it and as such it was fitting." Arien continued to stare down at the painting. There were several moments of silence before he realized that she wasn't going to comment and they continued on.

Doing her best to slink from shadow to shadow she saw their destination and allowed herself to fall behind. Two large double doors stood at the end of Lordling's Hall with one armed-guard on either side. In hindsight staying in the shadows had perhaps not been the best idea. Once arriving at the door she could do nothing but come out of hiding. The moment she stepped into the light one of the guards sprang from his position, his gleaming sword flying for her neck.

But Arien had expected just such an attack. No guard worth the red stitching on his tunic would remain passive as a hooded figure appeared behind his King and Prince as fully armed as she was. She waited, watching as if in slow motion as the blade got closer and closer. At the very last moment she ducked, straightened up directly behind the guard, and wrapped her arm around his neck, her knife against his throat and her dagger pressing him in the lower back. He froze, his sword hanging loosely in his grip.

"Drop it." She whispered against his ear. The blade clattered to the ground. The King stepped from behind the second guard and his son where he had been herded the moment the action had begun. With his hands outstretched, palms up in a placating manner he walked towards her.

"My Lord, I apologize. It was merely a misunderstanding." Arien, her body coursing with adrenaline and no little fear, was just able to hear him over the pounding of her heart. What had she been thinking allowing herself to be guided so far into unknown territory by people she was unfamiliar with? A compressing panic engulfed her. She had to get out.

Looking warily at the three men before her she hazily noticed their expressions of worry. Realizing that she was still holding onto her captive she forced herself to take a deep breath relaxing herself enough to release the elf. He leapt to the opposite side of the room the moment he felt the weight of metal leave his throat. Standing a little behind his counterpart he was shaking slightly. Arien noticed guiltily that he was near two centuries younger than herself.

"I'm afraid I must recant my acceptation of your invitation your Highness. It is getting late and the roads are not safe for anyone at night." She said looking at the floor and rolling the hilts of her weapons in discomfort, her voice cracking audibly. Thranduil was disappointed, but felt he could empathize. The man had no doubt not expected such an attack and wished to recover himself. It was quite understandable however regrettable.

Hearing his son come to stand beside him he said, "Legolas please escort our lord to the stables to retrieve his mount." After surreptitious observations during the day Thranduil had come to the conclusion that the Protector was much younger than anybody had ever assumed, perhaps even as young as Legolas. And he couldn't help but feel slightly protect of him.

Turning to address their would-be guest once more he said, " Please remember that should you require anything, anything at all, you need only ask." Arien nodded once and watched as the king and his shaken guards disappeared behind the double doors. Looking back to the prince she saw that he seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but felt that he couldn't possible be more uncomfortable than she was.

After several seconds of awkward silence Prince Legolas led the way out of the hall, and Arien followed, her weapons returned to their sheaths. It was a long trip back but the welcoming sounds and smells of the stable was worth it. It had been some time since she had had the opportunity to bask in the sweet aroma of mixed grains and lay in a fresh bed of hay, and she suddenly found herself immersed in memories of the days that had required nothing of her but to muck out a stall or two.

A nudge on her shoulder knocked her out of her reverie. Lúnor stood before her better groomed than she had been in years. Taking her lead from the young hostler whose eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline she mounted. Looking back down at Prince Legolas she scolded herself for the fluttery feeling that immediately hit her midsection. He reached up, his golden hair sliding across his shoulder, to stroke Lúnor's sleek neck.

"She is a beautiful horse." Arien nodded, irrefutable pride mingling with her butterflies.

"She is a great friend." He looked up. Once again looking for the mouth that he knew produced the words, but all was darkness. He stepped back letting his hand fall to his side.

"I thank you once again for the life of my friend. May Elbereth smile upon you Great One." She blushed.

"And you Prince." Guiding Lúnor out the door took a bit of extra encouragement, but they made it out eventually and took off for home. O great Elbereth, she thought as trees streaked past in a blur, if you truly smile upon me then I will never be so unlucky as to meet that enchanting man again. However, knowing her life as she did she knew she was bound to. Unluckiness seemed to be a disease with her.

Hey All! Next stop chapter 4 in which a relationship begins. Which of course means more Legolas! I actually get to start to build, and show some of his character. I don't know about you but I'm excited! I think it's very interesting that I've attracted a few Tamora Pierce lovers, as she's been my favorite author since I was about 11. Signed books Jesus1Uver! NOT FAIR!

Also I don't know if you're aware of this, but it's practically impossible to judge your own story from a reader's perspective. So, I'm relying on all you special people out there to let me know what's what. While constructive praise is good enough for me, constructive criticism is good for the story. I'd love to hear how you think the story is progressing. So give me a shout out, and thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here it is. Long time coming I know, but it's long so that's fair. This was hard to write. I had to cram loads of info and make it interesting, hopefully it's ok though. Um.. quick note, it begins with Arien being 13. You should be able to follow it from there. Again thanks to all the reviewers, all the readers, and all the people who put me on alert and favs! Keep the reviews coming they're great incentive.

D

o

w

n

Chapter 4.

Arien knew the day that she had entered Mirkwood that if she had any designs to make her home there she would have to do as her mother had always taught. Make the bed before you get into it.

Many times in her life Arien had been warned against the dark wood. Yet on the bleak, rainy night that first found her standing under its trees surrounded by shadows she had an overcoming sense of security. She knew that beneath, above, and between the branches of the great wood she would be hidden, safe from all that sought to hunt her. It did not occur to her to seek a safer refuge, though she knew the dangers all to well.

Her thin nightdress and numb skin torn and caked in blood she journeyed through the forest with one goal in mind. Stumbling in the dark in her exhaustion she fell through a thorny thicket into a small clearing. Ignoring the blood blossoming from several new and reopened wounds she stood. Settled feet ahead of her, as if predestined, was a large and ancient tree. What Arien saw however was not just a simple tree, but a future home, somewhere that would become a place of sanctuary that would bar her from the world.

Forcing her run-tired muscles she climbed to the highest branch that would still support her weight to spend her first night. Surrounded by the unfamiliar sounds of the wood's nightlife she fought off sleep fearful of reliving the horrors of reality in the land of dreams. Shivering and shaking thoughts came unbidden to her mind.

She was alone. There was no longer a being in the world that she could rely on, and there never would be again. If she were to continue to live she would have to do so on her own, never again to see family or friends. And there was no one to blame but herself.

In a position that would normally call upon the comfort of self-pity Arien felt only self-hatred. No mercy was to be given to the child that had lost all in one night, no quarter for the young soul that was aching for the comfort of home. That child deserved nothing but loathing, and disparagement. For that child was dark, evil, and soon enough all would know it.

The night was long, and painful, and the morning dawned with a heavy realization. Though she had accepted the idea of being alone with an alacrity that was slightly frightening she had not fully considered what being alone truly meant. When the shock of the past day started to wear off and her more serious wounds made themselves known she began to understand. Food was now hers to gather. Water was hers to find. And injuries were hers to heal. She could no longer depend on the support of others for her survival. Her very life was resting in her tender, inexperienced hands.

She started slowly, only venturing far enough away from her newly appointed home to find enough sustenance for the day. Sometimes she would get lucky enough to find a cache of nuts and seeds hidden for the cold season by a well-prepared animal. Most of the time she was stuck eating an extremely seedy beery, that while edible was very unsatisfying. However these ventures barely took half a day leaving the rest to her self-destructive mind and soon the lack of a purpose took its toll.

Memories plagued her, driving her to near manic heights of activity if only to escape the pain. She learned quickly the condition of the wood as she scoured the land for food, water, and building materials. However, any traveler was in great risk of attack, be it by orc, spider, or other forest creature. A small girl with no weapons to defend herself was practically a free meal. The idea of living in such a situation indefinitely was absurd.

After observing the unnatural creatures of the forest Arien decided very quickly that there was room enough for only one sinful creature in the wood and she was determined for that creature to be her. She spent many months deciding precisely how she would go about getting rid of the scourge that had plagued her kin, defiled the land, and caused her such personal hurt. But when she finally did decide and put the action into play she felt a great sense of accomplishment.

Her first objective was to build her home and base of operations, the sight of which would be the tree that she had slept in since she had arrived. It took her nearly a year to complete the project. Located off the trail it was most unlikely to be seen by travelers, and located far enough away from any orc camps or spider nests to be out of immediate danger.

Lacking the true makings of a flet it was more what one would call a fort. Without any true building materials she was unable to recreate such artistry. The rooms, instead of being built directly into and on top of the tree, were hung from its branches. There were such three rooms, a bedroom, a food store, and a war room all connected by simple rope bridges. Draped over each hung structure was a leafy canopy keeping it all from sight.

Her next task took a bit more planning. The orcs were heavily armed and equal if not superior to her in strength. After several attempts to fashion her own weapons Arien decided to leave the comfort of the wood and seek the nearest human village to acquire the many things that she could not make. By that time she had nearly grown out of the torn nightdress that she had been wearing day in and day out and was in much need of new clothing. She had no doubt that anyone who saw her would consider her to be a woman of the lowest disrepute.

Upon leaving the last trees of Mirkwood she traveled three days until coming to the village of Woodside. It was a small place with large posts fencing in a cluster of little ratty buildings full of leathered and worn people. However with orcs being such a problem the one thing the small town had in abundance were smithies and leather workers.

Orc raids were also evident in the number of people who were loitering around, or rather weren't. It seemed that if there wasn't a particular reason to be outside they weren't going to risk it.

Before revealing herself Arien braided her excessively long hair carefully over her ears in hope that she would be taken as a human child. It worked to tremendous effect. The women flocked to her desperate to be needed, clucking, and tsking in general bemoanment of her state of undress. And though the men saw her as another mouth to feed in an already lacking society they did not treat her negatively.

The small community took her in with few questions. Though she felt slightly guilty for using their kindness for her own gain she felt better when she convinced them to let her work for her keep. In addition to the jobs she was assigned she took on extra duties to earn some money of her own. After several months of being passed from family to family she was eventually taken in by an elderly widow whose first and second husbands had both been killed in raids.

Despite her attempts to distance herself she came to truly care for the people of Woodside, particularly Widow Gaeda, but she never let herself forget who she was. What she was. And how she was fated to spend eternity alone.

Though she often wished she didn't have to leave she knew she could stay no more than two years. After that they were bound to notice the lack of change in her appearance. As it turned out she needn't have worried about how and when she would leave, one dreary, chilly morning it was all decided for her.

As Arien woke early that morning she could feel the death around her, she could taste it on the wind. It drifted through her hair and seeped into her skin. It was that day that the Protector was born though it would be years until anybody would call her such. It didn't matter that the ones that she was protecting were already past the point of caring.

The orcs had made an impressively quiet attack. The guards had been taken down before the alarm could be sounded. Those performing their morning chores outside were taken with no mercy. Their screams brought more victims running to help. Arien still wondered how it was possible for her to sleep through such noise. She couldn't help but think that she ignored the sounds of horror subconsciously in an effort to avoid witnessing another massacre.

One was enough for anybody.

Sliding from her cot in the corner of the small kitchen she peered past the window cover. She knew without a doubt that she was the only person left. Bodies and their parts littered the ground. Though there were a few lifeless orcs among them there weren't nearly enough. Looking at the piles and trails of the dead she could almost reenact the entire battle. Near the well was a trail of woman strewn like breadcrumbs that lead her to the worst site she had ever set eyes upon.

She could see in her minds eye how it had happened. The moment the orcs burst through the open gates the women had gathered the children and made for the village cellar. It was pointless of course. The women should have been grateful that they were discarded with a simple slash of jagged blade, their blood cooling before the real screaming began. For no scream is like that of a child's.

Like a heap of broken dolls gnawed on and tossed aside by a careless dog they lay. Their small bodies ripped, bent, and severed. Whole limbs missing, chest cavities gaping, jaws unhinged and pried open in unnatural screams. A toy sword hanging in a pale, limp hand, blood streaming from wrist to tip. A blanket of flies lay over the site, a light buzz filling the air, a testament to the carnage.

A sharp taste of acid and Arien was retching into the kitchen scrap bucket. The moment her stomach settled she stalked to Gaeda's bedroom. At the foot the widow's rickety bed sat a large chest filled with her husbands' possessions and other things she couldn't bear to see anymore. Her heart burning with anger the young elleth threw open the lid. Lying on top was a short sword and matching knife. She picked them up rolling the hilts in her hands, testing their weight.

Arien knew the mechanics of swordplay ten times better than any child her age. This was the only reason she was even considering what she was considering. But she had never actually fought anyone before, and she knew that somewhere outside were beasts that knew quite well how to fight and inflict pain. She bore many reminders of there abilities on her own body.

But no matter her fear she would not and could not cower in the corner and watch as the creatures desecrated her friends' remains. Her past was damning enough. There was no need to add fuel to the fire.

Gathering her anger about her she tread purposefully to the door, and shoved it open letting it bang against the wall. Though she felt more that she was on her way to joining her friends and not protecting their remains as she intended she was not about to make careless mistakes. She had yet to see any orcs. If she could draw them all out into the open then at least she would be sure that she wouldn't be putting her back to one unknowingly.

As predicted the smelly creatures began to trickle from buildings to investigate the noise in the otherwise silent town. She waited in the doorway until she was sure they were all out. They were even more revolting than she remembered.

Covered in nothing but loincloths they walked bent over and half crouched reminding Arien forcibly of young children not yet trusting of their legs. Pieces of flesh hung from between their lips, still stuck between sharp teeth. Some looked as if they had rolled in their 'food' before they had eaten them. With the amount of blood, hair and sinew dried to their skin she wouldn't have been surprised if they had.

She looked at them closely. There eyes looked strange, distant. They staggered towards her leering, nearly drunk from their recent feed. Arien was emboldened. She stepped forward, a blade in each hand.

It was surprisingly easy to make her first kill. She watched in satisfaction as the creature fell holding it's large hands over the clean whole in its heart, a look of astonishment on its face. It was as if someone had unleashed a beast inside of her. All the hurt, all the negative emotions joined to create an amazing source of power, and all she had to do was direct it.

The task was made easier by the fact that very few had actually had the foresight to bring their weapons out with them. Though instead of feeling guilt at killing the creatures unable to protect themselves she felt only amusement for their stupidity. Soon enough she had made her way through the surviving group with only slight disgust at the filth covering her from head to toe.

It took her near two whole days for her to finish the burials. After that there was nothing left for her to do but return to Mirkwood as she had planned. She would not however, return empty handed. Arien scoured the village for anything she could bring back with her. By the time she left Woodside she was heavily weighed down by everything and anything she would need to begin her life in solitaire.

She raided the leather shop first, picking up a large travel pack and two water skins. She then headed to the smithies strapping a few extra knives to her thighs, belt and upper arms. Next she went back to the house that had been her home for the past year and a half. After packing all the non-perishable foods she could find she went back to Gaeda's trunk.

There were many strange odds and ends floating around the bottom though nothing she could use. Just as she was about to settle for the things she had already gathered her eye was caught by a glint of gold. Reaching down she pulled out a dress. Hot tears pulled at her lashes. It was the most beautiful thing she had seen since…forever. It reminded her so much of…home. Unable to resist the elven inspired gown she folded it carefully, slid it into her pack, and headed back to Mirkwood.

It was that dress that she had hitched up to her knees as she carefully made her way over the uneven ground of the wood. It had been over four hundred years since the day she left Woodside and she could count on one hand the number of times she had worn it. And only ever for one purpose.

Approaching the wash pool she slowed, listening for any who might already be enjoying a cool soak. Hearing no sounds that would suggest occupation she parted the bushes planted for concealment and stepped into the clearing surrounding the pool. The moment her feet hit the ground she regretted it, for who lay tunic-less on the bank but one Prince Legolas.

It had been thirty-seven years since the day she had met the prince and it seemed that he had only gotten more handsome over time. Startled from his slumber by the sound of her footfalls he sat up, a welcoming smile on his face. Arien forced herself to smile in return. Don't act strange. "Good day, Prince," she said, attempting her first curtsy in many, many years.

"Mae govannen, My Lady. It is not oft that I see young women out this far. You are not unaccompanied I hope?" he asked in a concerned tone. She cast her eyes downwards searching for a plausible lie.

"No…um…" She raised her head slowly with a sudden inspiration. She straightened looking the ellon in the eyes. "No, my brother is taking a walk till I'm done here. We just came from the city. It is not oft that we get to come out here and we both have favorite spots to visit." She finished, mentally giving herself a pat on the back. True Lunor couldn't exactly be considered her brother especially because she wasn't male, but the sentiment behind the words would be enough to get by the prince.

Legolas nodded absentmindedly, looking at the girl closely. There was something about her that was not right. At first glance she appeared like any other young woman his age, at the lower end of middle-class if he was guessing right, but if he looked closely enough there was something wrong with each piece of the picture. The thing that set him most off-balance was the way that she stood. Never in his life had he seen a woman of any class let her shoulders fall in what was an unmistakable, and in his mother's eyes unforgivable slouch.

There were of course many other wrongs. Her stubborn looking chin was perpetually pointed down instead of holding her head up in the usual show of self-confidence and/or arrogance. Her gown while impeccably clean looked as if it had been fitted for someone else, was not up to the usual elven standard of make, and was ages out of style. And her breathtaking blue-gray eyes not only had the tendency of drawing him into the world that was all their own, but had a depth that young women their age lacked.

He also realized with slight discomfort that her curtsy, while perfectly well done, was completely wrong. She had pulled a beautiful curtsy, if he had been a visiting tradesman. Obviously he wasn't. That curtsy was for a person one station higher than you. It was the same one his brother's wife used when meeting the Lord of Rivendell. The girl would have to be a high lord's wife for that curtsy to be proper. And she certainly didn't look like a high lord's wife.

However, Legolas was not one to fuss over etiquette, and he definitely wasn't going to embarrass the elleth by pointing out her mistake. Realizing he was still sitting in the grass with his shirt off he stood. "Pardon me, Lady." He said walking towards his shirt drying on a large boulder in the sun. Once again Arien's tongue acted before she could rein it in.

"No need Your Highness, I was quite enjoying the view." She blushed, cursing herself silently as he turned to face her, an eyebrow raised, and a slight smirk ghosting on his lips. Every trace of diplomatic prince replaced with young man.

"Is that so?" Her blush deepened. Quite attractively too, Legolas thought.

"Pardon _me_ Your Highness, my tongue seems to have a mind of it's own these days."

"An interesting prospect I'm sure." His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as her color impossibly darkened and spread disappearing under her neckline. True her dress was out of style and looked as if it was made by an adan, but the wide, off the shoulder neck was very appealing, and the warm honey gold blended beautifully with her skin. Deciding to take pity on the girl who was currently staring at her feet in utter embarrassment he slid his shirt on and tried to erase all evidence of mischievousness from his smile.

"I should take my leave." Arien nodded her eyes never leaving the ground. "Perhaps I will see you again…next week?" He asked in what was truly a subtle suggestion. There was a stagnant pause as she weighed her options.

"I will do my best to make it Your Highness." Came her quiet reply. He took a few steps forward, bringing him close enough to reach out and tilt her head up so that he could look in her eyes. There was a small intake of breath.

"Please, call me Legolas."

"Very well, Legolas." She fought off the returned butterflies as he smiled at her, his hand still in place, his thumb unconsciously stroking her chin.

"And how shall I address you?" Arien stared into his eyes trying not to let her fear show as she searched for an answer to that question, and trying not to ask one of her own. But whether she would ask him to remove his hand immediately, or whether she would ask him to reach up nary a centimeter and stroke her lip instead she didn't know.

"Laurie." The name was beautiful, and held a special place in her heart. It would bring great joy to her to hear it from someone else…or it would kill her. Sometimes risks were worth it.

"Until next we meet Laurie." Joy, pain, and sweet pleasure. It was certainly something she could get used to. He bowed over her hand, a strange look passing in his eyes. Arien watched as he passed through the privacy bushes and stood listening until his quite footfalls disappeared her face wrinkled in confusion.

She had never had such a strange conversation before. If you could call that a conversation. She had seen people flirt before, but had certainly never considered doing so herself. She was however quite sure that the pri…that Legolas had been flirting. The idea sent a small zing of nervous energy up her spine.

I was right. She thought, remembering the lean, sculpted muscles of the ellon. He does have the agility of a mountain cat.

A loud rustling brought her out of her appreciative thoughts. Lunor shouldered her way past the bushes and into the clearing. And as if she knew what the young woman had been thinking the horse looked at her in what could only be a reproachful manner. Arien ignored her. "I didn't ask your opinion." She said, before stripping and diving into the cool, clean pool. Despite herself she found she was looking forward to the next week.


End file.
